


Stress test

by Nilysil



Category: Warframe
Genre: Combi-genitalia, Fingering, M/M, Mawframe, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Non-canon biology, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Restraints, Size Kink, Strength Kink, Stress Relief, Temporary body, Vaginal, blood sport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14418381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilysil/pseuds/Nilysil
Summary: Cordially invited to take part in Simari’s new venue of research, Lorren seizes the chance to partake in the adrenaline run; and it does so much more than to wear him tired, nerves resting in exhilaration. Simaris, gladly, relieves the volt of the pent-up stress – for research purposes, of course.





	Stress test

**Author's Note:**

> -+- Kudos, comments and sharing are encouraged! -+-  
> I had feelings from Simaris in Sanctuary Onslaught and I REGRET NOTHING

Electricity surges through Lorren’s circuits as he slides beneath the reach of a corrupted ancient, popping a cluster of sharpened shots into its back to the tune of showering visceral data. Far flung blood shimmers into rhombus orange shards as the simulated corpse falls to the floor, one of many as the merlot toned warframe pops another cluster of pyrana buckshot into a mock corpus. When the rounds run out, as he sidesteps a cleaving swipe, Lorren exchanges the powerful sidearm for a sword, splattered with simulated blood as the façade of a corrupted butcher falls to its knees, pooling red dazzling into data. They’re left abandoned as the volt changes tactic, nerves surging with activity as he hits his accelerator. Blood shimmers off his smooth flesh as his motions become a blur, hacking into the onslaught amongst a shower of blue and orange.

“You’re doing well, hunter,” the cephalon speaks over hammering senses, the volt barely receptive. “Compared to the previous simulation, your efficiency is up an additional thirteen percent, remarkable improvement in such a short span of time.” Simaris watches as the volt cuts into the facades made of sanctuary’s collective data, intrigued as the volt revels in the spray of temporary bloodshed before it becomes nothing but data. It’s curious, how much the volt enjoys being the target of the stress test, surpassing the cephalon’s drab assumptions from their previous encounter. “I’d almost think you enjoy it, Lorren.”

The way the cephalon says his name makes the merlot volt sigh, rising to a gladiatorial stance, arms held out with the dakra prime held limp between his fingers – enemies closing in. Shimmering blood dances over his skin as it evaporates into data streams. “You assume correct, cephalon; I’ve never felt more alive,” followed by a short laugh as he watches another hoard of corrupted imitation approach. His blade deflects against a myriad of the barrage, tinges of sprayed bullets muted by the surging electricity within his veins. Damage returns in his system as energy, energy dulling the faint pains as his blade bites into the onslaught.

It draws on the cephalon curiosity as he watches, accumulating the sensory readings as the volt dances back into a transition portal – energy returned to a baseline, everything reset to neutral for a new zone of simulations.

Lorren practically dances among the presence of simulated corpus, motions streamlined as blade and buckshot aims careful and true amongst the bursts of lasers and ratel traps. Executions are made bloody between the bursts of the garbled hoard, spattering the volt in the crimson mess as Simaris delays the dissipation – curious to the volt’s reaction. Motions become more erratic, steps compensating for the slick blood on metal floors, rolling beneath the burst of an eximus supra and skewering the corpus tech with the sizzling end of his dakra. The volt looks up towards the ceiling, to the omnipresent sight of the cephalon before his attention is taken again by hoarding crewman – taking out his pyrana to nullify them in an instant.

The volt revels in the bloodshed as he passes through the zones near seamlessly, adrenaline hammering inside his head, inside his nerves, careless to the cephalon’s warning of faltering efficiency. Suggestion attempts are left ignored, inattentiveness to his own onset exhaustion forces his reaction time to slow – not enough for him to notice alone, but just enough for the cephalon to remark. “Increase your effort, Lorren, you’re so close to your previous benchmark. Efficiency is crucial to this experiment’s design.”

Stressors mark the volt’s progress; heartbeat, pulse, the fluctuation of nervous energy rejuvenated with every hit Lorren takes. Measured swipes and stances remark on the warframe’s reaction time, steadily decreasing even as the volt’s energy reserves stammer high, hitting his accelerator more and more as efficiency dips below 30, then 20. A surging hoard of infested brings the rating back up – but it never lasts long.

The simulation ends abruptly as it dips into the single digits, enemies dissipating into lines of code and leaves Lorren to stand alone, covered in blood dripping down his features. Cream sparks surge through his form as his head rolls back, shoulders drooping even as his breathing remains erratic, his nerves and circuits bleeding sensitive and alert.

“Hunter, you exceed expectation,” the cephalon muses, sifting through the streams of composed data, noting playback data to later intensive study. “You are far more exciting and complex than anything in santuary. Even with your already contributed data,” Simaris wanes, collecting all the data into a tidy bundle for his background processes to deal with in the meantime. He leaves the simulation running as he constitutes the information for analysis, letting the warframe breathe as data begins to sparkle from the volt’s skin. Dripping blood transitions into flaking squares that dissipates into the cold.

Lorren collapses back onto a bench of the simulation of Lua, dropping his armaments to the dusted white as two-toned hands run over his sloped head. One grasps around his temple as he leans back, breathing through the ventilation at his side. Still erratic nerves spur out lashing electricity around him, surging despite his efforts to ease his racing mind still swarming in adrenaline. “It’s been so long since I had a rush that hard,” he attempts to laugh, groaning as a headache hammers his thoughts.

“Does it remind you of something, hunter?” The omnipresent cephalon queries, still tapped into the warframe’s senses. “You remain agitated, despite the lacking presence of data-immortals.”

The volt sighs, arms crossing over his face, laid back on the bench with legs laid out lax. “Yeah, just some pent-up stress. Need to get that down and I’ll be all good to go back to my ship.” There’s a trace of thought as he tries to let the stress relent, inhaling deep through maw and vents located down his throat and chest. Inklings of ideas spot his thoughts as he worries that it’s not enough – that he’ll have to find some other way to tend to the psychological arousal still in the throes of combat.

“Have you partaken in such an onslaught before, hunter?” the cephalon half pays attention, curious about how the volt will reduce the heighten levels of epinephrine and serotonin.

Lorren sighs, cupping his face as he looks up to the façade of the earth between the rubble of Orokin architecture. “Yeah. Took part in Grineer bloodsports for a long time, then got a ship and never looked back.”

“I see,” the cephalon rumbles, “did you enjoy the slaughter there?”

“I reveled in it,” Lorren laughs. “But it’s beside the point.”

“Were you rewarded for your efforts?”

“Handsomely,” the volt huffs, “what are you getting at, cephalon?”

“You’re exchanging psychological arousal for physical, aren’t you?”

The volt chokes on his breath, sputtering at such an assertion! But, with the cephalon tapped into his circuits and nerves, it’s proving very hard to hide anything from the data-obsessed cephalon. Only his thoughts remain safe from Simaris’ omnipresent sight – at least for now as he gives into the idea of just getting whatever adrenaline he still has expressed in a more, creative manner.

“Am I right, hunter? That you’ll relax through self-guided pleasure?”

“What, you want to take part, Simaris?” the volt sneers, almost laughing to himself at the prospect that the cephalon would still be interested after their last sexual encounter; not like Lorren could ever forget doing nothing for a week after the thick plowing the cephalon granted him. He wouldn’t at all mind a second occurrence – he liked being filled up.

“The pursuit of knowledge never ceases, hunter.” The figment of a humanoid form materializes before there the volt lies out; causing him to perk with curiosity. “But I must ask, hunter, what form would you prefer?”

“Wait, waitwaitwait, hold up,” Lorren sits up, “you’re letting me decide?”

“Let me rephrase, hunter,” the shifting form of Simaris’ façade wanders, stepping back, nothing but a collection of blue and orange data streams. “What shape suits your ‘fancy’?”

Suspicion crosses the volt’s face, but also a tinting arousal. There’s been so many he wouldn’t mind being under in the throes of passion, but to actually partake? “Big,” he blurts out, unable to form a coherent description, “huge grineer, the ones that carry the ogris.” And Lorren can only watch as the silhouette of Simaris’ façade filters out between the shape of countless data-immortals. Mindless forms that are inhabited by Simaris’ consciousness. The cephalon settles down into the form of a bombard, towering above the merlot volt nearly twice as tall – even more as the volt remains sat on the bench.

Lorren whistles as he stares up, watching the armor flicker between physical and streams of neon data as the cephalon’s presence stands over him. “Tell me, hunter,” the grineer mask fades into a representation of the cephalon’s hard-light construct, “how does this form make you feel?”

“Would not at all mind being bent over and fucked mercilessly.” Lorren grins, pulling up his feet and presses a cloven hoof against the thigh armor. A large hand catches his foot, pulling it upwards as the simulated ogris is toss to the side – unneeded for the process. Simaris can only bend over the volt, a hand holding a hooking leg firm as the warframe grins.

“Do you think me a sadist, hunter?”

“If it contributes to sanctuary, yeah” the volt grins, staring up at the partial mask as it sinks back to physical from cubes of orange. “I can take it Simaris, you already adjusted my max capacity with that tentacle romp of yours last time.”

“I am aware, but, I am not one to direct these ‘nonsensical intimacies’, hunter,” the cephalon rumbles above him, voice neutral as the volt spreads himself, exposing his split seams and glowing flesh. “It is your occupation, after all. I am merely a client.”

Lorren chuckles, shaking his head as he pets himself below. “True. True. But damn better than any I’ve taken – you’re at least receptive to suggestions.” His fingers stroke down between his spread claspers, one leg held firm as the other coils behind a soft-shelled leg. “Take that other hand of yours down where mine is. I’m sure you can direct yourself from there – seeing as you know my nerves better than I do,” he chuckles, watching as the large glove cups between his thighs, palming against his flesh as his own hands enthrall themselves with the back of bench.

“As so, hunter?” the cephalon rumbles, large fingers tempting against the exposed cream of the volt’s genitalia. His hand scoops down, squished between bodies, and he releases Lorren’s leg to direct itself as his other hand holds him steady. He adjusts his much larger body, looming over the grinning merlot volt beneath him.

Thick fingers scoop inside Lorren, coaxing rhythmical against a sensitive g while his padded palm rocks against the bright clit. “Y-yeah,” the volt sighs, his legs held spread by the cephalon’s bulking body. It’s a precarious position, the size difference immense; the bombard body leans over him, overshadowing the gaze of rebounded sunlight as the digits inside him makes it hard to shift. Constraint draws him taut, their position complex and difficult to hide the strain in the nerves in his legs. Even then, it remains unhidden from the cephalon looming over him.

“May I suggest a change of venue, hunter? Perhaps, it’d be better suited to have you located higher to enjoy this body-shape.” Before Lorren can protest, he finds himself encamped amongst grineer haphazard architecture, sat up upon a crate that forces him to sit chest level with the towering body Simaris possesses. The gaze of the moon looms overhead as large hands roam over his thighs, to which Lorren relents, turning himself around as the gloves enrapture his thighs. His back presses the body’s front, cloven feet pressed between bulking chest and armored biceps. It takes no effort for the cephalon to reach around the smaller man now, fingers spreading merlot lips for the sensitive cream.

Lorren grasps around the helmet of the simulated body, spreading himself more so as the gloves draw against his spread pad claspers, cupping between thigh and groin. Thick fingers spread his lips as his own find place amongst the grineer armor, feeling it give to sparks of flaking data. “Ooof, okay, good call,” Lorren gasps, looking over the hands holding his thighs spread, holding him firm as the gloved digits rub and thrust inside him. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, gasping as the thick fingers burrow inside him, body reacting by claspers trying to hold the hand close beneath the thrusting barrage.

Simaris remains silent as Lorren’s legs tremble, a nonissue as the hands of the grineer body holds the wiggling volt restrained. All Lorren can do is writhe in the lower embrace, arms wrapping back and pulling against the soft-shelled armor as he basks in the filling fingering. He arches against the thrusts, pressing hand between the top of the tarped container, his holding claspers, and his saturated flesh as the cephalon draws him ever closer to orgasm. And his own fantasizing delves him further, replacing Simaris for a moment with a general he used to know.

The volt trembles, maw hung open with moans and whispers as his hips roll against the deep thrusts, practically drooling as he holds the fragmenting helmet of the grineer body against his side, fingers digging into the neck as he leans. And just as he feels like he’s at his peak, pressing his vulva against the thrusting assault – it stops, digits withdrawing and holding the claspers firmly against his thighs.

His nerves sing in electricity, staring down over the mess the hand and his body made upon the dark green tarp. Lorren whimpers, restraining himself from finishing himself off as the cephalon behind he goes still. “What- what’s the hold up, Simaris?!” Lorren snaps, wiping his mouth as he stares down at the grineer shape behind him.

“Patience, hunter. Suda has need of me; my processes are already overstocked in research.”

Lorren grunts, “Will if you’re not going to finish me off-“

“Hunter, be patient,” Simaris rumbles, his form sparking with cubes of orange data as Lorren wiggles within his grasp. A scowl twists Lorren’s maw, but he waits, mind wandering him to explore further sensations.

A groan draws from Lorren as a wet finger strokes against his clit, drawing the hood back to further expose its sensitive skin. It makes the volt melt, pressing forth against the teasing hand. Slow touches strum against his taut need to cum, hands balling into the soft-shell armor as he watches the hand between his thighs.

The finger strokes against him every few seconds, sustaining the volt’s need, extending the orgasm denial Lorren relents, held thighs rubbing the restraining hand, feet pawing between arms and body. “Is this what you yearn for, hunter?” The cephalon bellows, making the volt flinch as a finger flicks across the sensitive clit.

“I’d enjoy more of a plow, honestly,” the volt laughs, groaning as the finger tends to his clit. “But, orgasm denial, didn’t know you were into that stuff, Simaris.” He grins, gasping as the fingers fill him all over again – and sit inside him.

“So there is ‘terms’ for such sexual activities? Extending it to maximize the climatic pleasure; even though you were adamant about reaching orgasm.” The cephalon’s sensors recording plays back in fragments; of Lorren’s increased pleasure, of just how vocal the volt becomes beneath the barrage of thick thrusting fingers. In Simaris’ hands the volt wiggles, drawing tight around the fingers inside him. “How does it feel, hunter? To be taut and yearning?”

Spreading fingers make Lorren gasp, rocking against the gloved hand. “Damn fucking good, to be honest,” he grins, drawing himself to his final with gasps. “Let’s leave experimentation, to –“ his concentration cuts out as his senses buck, hands grasping against the thick arms around his waist. “Till- till after I cum,” he gasps, relenting into the swift thrusts as he writhes.

“Very well,” the cephalon rumbles.

“Ah, fuck, Simaris,” Lorren whimpers, fists balling against the arms coiled around his waist, bucking as he tumbles over his peak. “F-fuck, those fingers. Hnmph!” His hands fumble as he bucks, balling into the tarp beneath him as he leans forward, squeezing around the thrusting fingers as behind them his feet pull the cephalon’s form close. Fumbling forwards, doubling over, he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm, merlot skin sparking with electricity as he twitches, the gloved hands wane around his hips.

He can feel the curious cephalon take stock of his senses, rising himself back to sit as he works his breathing calm once more. Beneath him, as he shuffles his position, he stares at the wet spot once settled between his legs. “Holy fuck,” he sighs, “that was all me?” And he chuckles, rising his behind from the messy tarp. “Now then, Simaris. Were you wanting to try something in addition to just jerking me off?”

“Compared to our prior encounter, the rate in which to achieved climax was accelerated. Was this due to something I am unaware of?” He says this as Lorren looks down at him, faced with a grineer mask sparking to spurs of cubic data.

The volt is silent. Flushed.

“Is it, perhaps, you have a predisposition to a grineer partners?”

“Potentially,” the volt confesses, shuffling to avoid the wet spot on the tarp, the skirt-shape of his skin trailing as he moves to the edge of the covered container.

“I’ve inquired on your clientele, many of whom are part of the grineer faction.”

Lorren flinches, snapping a grimace towards the bombard-shape Simaris possesses. “Who knows?”

“Worry not, hunter, I only asked your cephalon. He told me many… interesting things, regarding your expenditures.”

“Rys, I’m gonna fucking…” he trails off into a grumble, and sighs. “What are you getting at, Simaris?”

“I’m curious what makes you so interested in the deteriorated creatures, hunter. And to be an active participant in your escapades.”

Lorren can only stare at the mask that would usually take place of a face, but knowing the cephalon, all that’s beneath is probably just data-streams. “So, let me get this straight,” the volt shoves himself down to the dirt beneath them, staring up at the towering cephalon. “You want to experience it first hand?”

“Correct, hunter. And, if my processes are correct, you’re excited by this body-form? Accelerated heart-rate, emotional arousal.” Simaris leans over the volt, and Lorren can see traces of data stream from the eye-spots of the mask. It’s intimidating for the much smaller warframe, to be this close to a bombard, to be loomed over as such.

But oh so arousing.

There’s a slow inhale as the volt closes his eyes, craning his head up. Grinning.

“I most certainly am, Simaris. And just as a note; I like it rough.”

“Hunter, I am unaccustomed to what you assume by ‘rough’, it has different connotations depending on the circumstances. However,” gloved hands trail down Lorren’s exhaling vents, stroking them before tucking beneath the folds of his built-in skirt. “I’m certain your senses are enough to guide me.” Beneath him, Lorren grins, shifting as hands grasp behind his thighs, tugging him to stand on the edge of his cloven hooves before he’s lifted from the ground.

“Just fuck me hard, Simaris,” the volt smarms, holding onto the armored arms as his legs hook around the hips of the cephalon’s body, “just like before; until I can’t feel my legs.”

“Are you addicted to such a sensation, hunter? Your foulmouthed cephalon had some words with me regarding your return,” Simaris grumbles, staring down as his gloved hands find hold of the volt’s, grasping firmly around the wrists and holding them up outstretched. Beneath him Lorren watches as glowing orange slips to enrapture his thighs, emerging from the creases in the grineer’s armor. They crawl from around the groinal region, holding the merlot warframe stable as Simaris leans forth – holding Lorren’s wrists crossed, holding the volt to dangle precariously between hands and tentacles.

“What did Rys tell you?” Lorren snorts, legs pawing the bulking body against own, vulva pressing against the faint glow of warmth.

“They had relayed concern about your wobbly gait, and your complaints of groinal aches. Perhaps an extension of duration over girth?”

“Oh come on, Simaris,” the volt grins. “That’s half the fun of it, the overload. But I have to admit, it was mostly due to length – you fucking filled my stomach up into a knot.” He wiggles in the grasp of the gloved fingers, his own balling into the tarp. “Just, restrain how fucking far you push into me this time.”

“Hm, understood,” the cephalon seems to exhale, “then, I assume, you yearn for a more ‘phallic’ shape?” Between them, against Lorren’s cream flesh, an orange girth expresses from the armored crotch-guard. The volt wiggles in his confines as he stares down at the blue-tinted tip, spreading himself against the pressing girth. Data shards sparkle from the glowing shaft, following the body motions as it alters to follow Lorren’s fluttering arousal. “Would this shape entrawl you, hunter?” Simaris rumbles.

“Quick question, tentacles again?”

“The sexual anatomy of grineer creatures is irrelevant to the studies of sanctuary; they’re nonfunctional, pitiful creatures reliant on the repetition of clones to sustain their numbers. Even then, many … lack that certain feature. Do you prefer that?”

Lorren sighs, yielding to the tentacles holding around his thighs, cupping his skin beneath his skirt. They pet as they move, scooping and taunting the frenulum to scoot the cream flesh on orange. He hums, arching against the malleable flaccid member. “No, I much rather prefer the tentacles. Though, I have found some that… are intact, and do ejaculate. But they tend to be the biggest assholes.”

“Noted,” the cephalon replies, rolling his hips against the spread legs held against his padded thighs. It draws a curious hum from Simaris, watching the other’s reaction physically and chemically.

In the restraints the warframe groans, his head resting against his outstretched arms as his legs barely begin to bob. The tentacles hold at his thighs firmly as the growing erection rubs against his clit, saturating in moisture as his eyes fall close to bask in the suspension. Dangling helplessly in the grip of a bombard body, relenting to the intrigued cephalon as he feels the sensations physically – and not as an electric burn the cephalon so graciously told him hours after their first encounter.

“I wonder if you’re a vocal partner,” Lorren smirks, legs arching against the cephalon’s sides, eyes falling open as the girth rubs against his sensitivities. He gazes over the glowing chub pressing against him, the echoes of its moments followed by the trailing of orange flakes. “That’s a good shape; though a little more weight on the bottom always helps to get that – “ he pauses, bucking his hips against the cephalon for emphasis, “tight squeeze going on! Once you’re nice and perky.”

Simaris huffs, forcing the volt’s arms apart as he adjusts, “patience, hunter.”

“I am,” Lorren smarms, “but are you?”

“That’s an indignant remark, Lorren.”

“Well, yeah; but am I right or not?”

The cephalon grunts, falling silent as his focus shifts to the sensation rising in his fabricated loins. It’s a bodily sensation he’s unaccustomed to, aside from the taint taste he had received in their prior encounter – but that was directionless, a small swarm of fuzzy feelings. This, it’s focused in one region of his anatomy, a sensitivity drawing him between comfort and discomfort as he shifts against the held suspended volt. “Interesting,” he muses, looking up over the other’s reaction as the tendrils in his groin press them.

Lorren’s legs draw tight as his flesh is pressed against the warm arousal, shifting as sparkles of data dance against him. Their tender and directionless touches tease his own perking arousal, his hooded clit taunted by the flaking data. “Geez, even your sparkling got me excited,” the volt laughs, squirming as his wrists are drawn up, held in one as a gloved hand roves over his breathing vents. Digits press the cream flesh to tweak, thumb petting calm as the cephalon watches his reactions.

He groans as the hand pets through his breathing flesh, arching within his confines to the best of his abilities. Although, his precarious position puts him at a disadvantage – completely at the whim of the curious cephalon’s watch as the volt indulges in the sensation. He grins, releasing a shaking exhale as Simaris’ grown erection bucks against his clit. He’d prefer not to say it, but Lorren can’t help it, he likes being dominated.

The hand trails down to dance along his spread thighs, delving further between them as the tentacles relax their suspension grasp to the volt’s sudden surprise. He grasps at the cephalon’s wrist – an exchange of both being held turned to one, the other held firmly around the wrist gripping the first. Lorren watches as the hand burrows between his spread claspers, pressing against his lips, being liberally spread and teased by the large digits. It makes him grin, clenching around the taunting intrusion. “Getting ready to burrow inside of me, huh, Simaris?”

“Perhaps, hunter,” the cephalon sighs, shuffling as his hands spread the volt’s fluids and flesh, his thumb pressing against a sensitive clit to draw a grunt. “You appear to be ready; however, I am not certain if the physiology my arousal is correct.” His hand presses within Lorren, spreading the saturated cream flesh to make him wiggle.

“If it’s erect, you’re doing it right,” the volt huffs, “all the basics of fucking comes naturally. Just stick it in me, you’ll know what to do.” A sharp gasp rises from him as the digits pull his groin upwards, hooking against his G spot. “As much as I love those fingers in me,” he laughs, “I really want to see the ever stoic, ever serious Simaris groaning.”

“Is that you’re goal, hunter?”

“Perhaps,” the volt teases, legs enrapturing the bulking sides of the grineer body.

“Well then, Hunter,” the hand leaves Lorren’s crotch, pressing against his clit as the tentacles lift the volt near level with his risen erection. “If that’s what you wish, then that is what you’ll get.” The glowing orange lowers cream against the broad flaking head. Soft lips prevent the easing penetration, held open by the padded digits as hips and tentacle guide them together. Beneath him Lorren writhes, arching into the filling erection with a groan and a soft exclamation. The padded hand pulls Lorren’s free wrist from his own, fists balling against the tarp as his elbows rest against the covered container. His reaction is quiet, yet his body trembles.

Lorren chuckles between his groans, pressing himself in full around the erection. “How does it feel, Simaris? Having me around your dick.” He arches, hips rolling in the affirming grasp of shaking orange.

“It is… interesting,” his breathing sighs, forcing the volt’s arms taut as he stares down at the flushed grin.

“Oh come now, Simaris, I’m certain you have more to say than that,” the volt gasps, rocking himself along the cephalon’s formed arousal. “Or are you just overwhelmed by the data in your circuitry brain?”

“Funny,” Simaris replies, snapping a gasp out of the smaller form. “I was merely just accessing the situation. If you want to hear me, hunter, you must get work for it.” The tangling tentacles around and beneath Lorren’s thighs cradle the volt’s hips, giving just enough room for him to rock around the flaking arousal that he squeezes inside his walls.

Lorren huffs, fists balling above him as his head lies against his outstretched arms. “Fine, fine. Not the first time I did all the work,” the volt sighs, rolling around the erection taut against his walls. There’s a groan, a bite of lips as cream flesh rolls around glowing orange. He can manage something like this, but with the flecks of fragmenting data it makes it difficult for the well-versed escort, gasping as the tiny electrical touches amplify his sensitivities. He’s careful to watch the cephalon’s reaction as he rocks in the tentacle confines, listening to a break in his breath.

Maybe talking will make it harder for Simaris to remain quiet.

“Say, Simaris,” the volt moans, squeezing the larger body with muscle and thighs. “When I do get you off, could you probably fuck me from behind?” He grunts as the cephalon’s answer is made with a buck of his hips.

“Surely, hunter,” he pauses as Lorren snaps back, buxcking him into silence. “You value a position of submission, is that why you make that suggestion?”

The volt arches down into the penetration, slowing his rolling aching muscles. “It takes a fucking lot outta me to do this, you know. Hard to keep bucking when I’m held suspended like this,” he growls, “it’d be more suited for you to do all the action. So come on and bounce me.”

A period of silence passes between them, the cephalon’s presence made quizzical. “Bounce you?”

Lorren’s mouth twitches, unamused. “Fuck me to the point my legs are bouncing. I’m sure you can figure that out, Simaris.” And he swears, the cephalon laughs – or at least chuckles.

“Your need, hunter, is immense,” and the cephalon thrusts into Lorren, holding himself stable against the container as Lorren’s fingers dig into the dark tarp. Beneath him the volt groans, relenting to the filling penetration as Simaris proceeds to dominate him, thrusting orange between cream, drawing gasps from the warframe. “I’m sure,” and Simaris cuts himself off again, “this is what you desire? A sensation filling your sensitive insides.” There’s a grunt from the both of them, the volt impartial to the sudden noise from the cephalon leaning above him.

“Ah, fuck, Simaris,” the volt writhes, his trembling legs bouncing as he tries to get a hold of the thrusting hips. “Gi-give it to me good.” Within his cream flesh the orange data flakes taunt him, driving his sensitivities to an almost unbearable degree. He wiggles in the confines, arching down into the filling thrusts as he tries to squeeze around it. “You got some- ah fuck – aphrodisiac dick. Hmm,” he whimpers, senses taut as he feels the girth fill him over and over, pressing against his situated backwall. His struggling for release is for naught, as the cephalon drives him against his peak in full force.

“Hunter,” the cephalon growls, traced with a burning lust. And his hand fumbles from holding the volt carefully, taking two wrists into one as padded fingers grip around the warframe’s gut. Thrusts draw faster as he spurs the volt’s orgasm closer, rubbing against Lorren’s aching clit. It’s enough to make the volt’s maw part, gasping before his breathing is drawn taut, bucking into the filling erection. “Good,” he rumbles; in a voice that makes the volt quiver.

“Fucking, asshole,” Lorren wheezes, grinding his thighs as he rides out his orgasm, feeling the gloved hand cup over his ass. Simaris presses himself out of the volt, hands moving to keep the volt stable in his grasp.

“Do you still yearn to be filled from behind?”

“Yes!” Lorren snaps, digits drawing against his lips.

And Simaris gladly obliges him; the tentacles around his thighs retreating, assisting the smaller body to turn around before letting the volt press himself back against the still perked erection. The tentacles are swift in their return, coiling beneath the volt’s overthrown skirt and spreading saturated cream against the rub of blue and orange. Beneath Simaris, Lorren balls his fists against the tarp, tearing it as a hand holds over his chest, the other grasping at his thigh. The motions are a blur; fingers spreading cream flesh, rubbing out groans from the sensitive clit as hips roll the two-toned erection.

There’s a gasp from Lorren as the erection settles inside him again, squirming, pulling the cephalon closer to the covered container as he rocks around it. And, invigored, Simaris resumes his thrusts, kneading the cream lips, fingers flickering across the volt’s aching clit as each thrust presses against the warframe’s g-spot. It makes Lorren wheeze, gasping, yearning as the only thing holding him up is the cephalon’s enraptured tentacles and his own fists curling against the tarp. Simaris takes one of them, forcing it behind Lorren’s back as his serious façade begins to falter, releasing groan after groan as he takes the warframe completely from behind.

It enthralls Lorren as he’s taken so adamantly by the cephalon, basking in the thrilling attention as his head is pressed against the tarp, drooling as the cephalon’s faux body fucks him senseless. “Fuck me, Simaris; till I can’t feel my legs again,” he moans, clawing the tarp as he’s pounded over and over.

“Your… ship cephalon,” Simaris struggles to reply,” Did not want as strenuous of an encounter!”

“Ah, fuck him,” Lorren gasps, legs drawing tighter as he can feel his climax near, “we’re already this far, a little muscle stress hurt nobody.” And he growls, bucking against the filling. “Oh fuck! Hm!”

Simaris rumbles, fingers digging against Lorren’s wrist. “Hunter, Lorren… I…” and he presses himself against the small volt, trembling and filling him with simulated cum.

…

…

…

Lorren sighs as he throws his shawl over his shoulders, tossing the hood over his head with one hand as the other keeps the fabric away from his assimilating groin. His maw twists into a grimace as he watches viscous fluid drip from his groin, encapsulating the mess inside his closing claspers to form the ever recognizable groinal jut of a volt. “I did not know you had that sort of energy in you, Simaris.”

“Your thoughts assume I’m sluggish, hunter?”

“You’re sharp, but dull when it comes to conversations,” the volt grumbles. “I thought you foregone the option of controlling a body. Unknown factors and limited methods.”

The cephalon only sighs, reverting the landscape to its proper form – a simulation data-scape. “I am one with sanctuary, hunter, and it is difficult to collect data on the unknown if I cannot control it.”

**Author's Note:**

> As Lorren pivots his refurbished ship away from the relay, his cephalon Rys inquires on his activity – chewing out the merlot volt for letting his kinks get in the way of reason.


End file.
